


For You, I'd Lose It All

by Papillonae



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crime Syndicate, Alternate Universe - Human, F/F, Fake Character Death, Gun Violence, Organized Crime, Put Down The Gun, Russia Mention, run away with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 21:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17009679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papillonae/pseuds/Papillonae
Summary: Drabble. When special agent Erzsébet is discovered to be a threat to the slavic crime syndicate she has been investigating, she is confronted by the organization's heiress, and the two must make a decision about their future.Written for APH Rarepair Week, Day 7: Run Away With Me.





	For You, I'd Lose It All

There is darkness, save for a few filtered streaks of sunlight and the dust that flutters through them like a spell. There is pain – a sharpness tearing through the right temple – and the metallic taste of blood.

The mission has been compromised.

The stench of blood is everywhere, hung slick on the walls and floors. Dozens of bodies lie in crumpled heaps. The lucky ones are riddled with bullets.

They were sent to dispose of the threat. They knew she would return. They knew she had unfinished business. Little did they realize just who they were dealing with, and how far down the hole her whole undercover operation stretched.

Erzsébet breathes quick, short breaths – in, out, in, out – and reloads. The empty magazine clatters uselessly to the floor. She is less of a rat, and more of a blind mole in the dim light of the seedy hotel’s eighteenth floor.

Mission failure. She was already dismissed by the National Security Service. The syndicate’s activities went far beyond the _Rendőrség_ drug trafficking investigations on the Hungarian-Ukrainian border. Their operations were on a massive multi-national scale with ranks and numbers that far outweighed the order of the law.

Erzsébet had not anticipated such a feat. All along she had expected a crime family, but had not anticipated just how far the reach of their influence rooted down throughout the continent.

All Erzsébet knows is that she no longer an agent, nor a spy. She has nothing left to lose.

Then she hears the crisp sound of a cocked pistol, and all of her senses turn to its source.

_No. There is one thing left to lose._

Kateryna, the eldest daughter of the crime syndicate, stands before her at the end of the ruined ballroom. Her white trench coat remains untouched by blood. Pure as snow in the shadow of red-streaked hands – nothing short of perfect, as expected from a trained assassin.

Erzsébet can only conclude that she herself is the next mess to clean. One last stubborn stain.

“Have I given you the impression that you should have come back?” she says in a level voice, clear as a bell.

Erzsébet moves to stand, but a miserable slice of pain through her side forces her back into a kneel. She gently holds the spot and grits her teeth.

“On the contrary,” she counters with a grimace, “you gave me the impression that you had wanted company.”

Kateryna’s lips purse tightly together.

“Do you realize what you’ve just done?” she asks, quieter.

“I believe I have killed your men—”

“ _My father’s men_.”

“—Right, your father’s men.”

“And you’ve endangered me and my family.”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

The rage in Kateryna’s eyes misses the regret in Erzsébet’s.

“You think this is a game.” It is not a question.

“Katya—”

A loud concussive shot rings out. A warning.

“You don’t get to call me that. Not after everything you’ve done.”

Erzsébet holds her hands up defensively. “It is true that I was sent to expose you and your family. To gather intel on your illegal operations. To shut you down.”

“So you admit it.”

“But,” Erzsébet rises up slowly in spite of the broken ribs, “everything beyond that was real. All that we spoke of together, all that we had done, Katya! That night, when we had spoken of a future—”

“ _No more!_ ” Kateryna’s voice is hoarse. There is a desperation in the trembling of her hand as she thrusts the gun forward, a quivering in her eyes as she fights to maintain coldness.

Erzsébet can see the conflict in the way she pulls back the hammer. She shrinks back to her knees. “You don’t have to do this, Katya—”

“I am _Kateryna_ ,” she declares as she approaches Erzsébet and aims for the center of her forehead, “and I will do what I must to honor the syndicate and to protect my family’s name.”

The cool of the barrel presses at Erzsébet’s forehead in a tight circle. She does not flinch. Instead, she turns her eyes up to look at her one more time: the severity of her brow, the softness of her round face, the way her braided hair is wrapped atop her head like a crown. She is beautiful.

The sight pulls at Erzsébet’s chest. She cannot find her voice. It is the end. All she can do is squeeze her eyes shut, press herself deeper into the gun, and hope that her passing would be painless. She hopes that someday, Katya can forgive what she’d done.

A thick silence envelops them for what feels like forever.

Erzsébet forgets to breathe.

Then she feels the gun tremble against her until its offending weight is lifted from her forehead, and suddenly there are a series of six gunshots, each of them punctuated with glass breaking. Erzsébet’s ears are ringing, and she cannot open her eyes fast enough.

The window that faces out toward the street now boasts web-like bullet holes and breaks. The wind chill outside can be felt from where they stand. She cannot see Kateryna’s face, but she can see her shoulders shake.

“The sound will be enough to alert the rest of them. You must leave before then.”

Erzsébet, suddenly aware that she had not been breathing, takes a sharp intake of cold air. It is a painful breath, but the urgency in Kateryna’s voice brings her back to her feet. She still cannot process what had justr transpired.

“You’re letting me go?” she asks.

“You haven’t much time.”

“But – what about you?”

“What _about_ me?” Kateryna turns to face her, and her eyes are overflowing. Her voice trembles. “I am the heir to a crime syndicate. As much as I always hated it, we both knew I never had a future beyond this. Not even with you, Erzsi.”

Erzsébet limps over to her. “You have two other siblings.”

“I won’t leave that responsibility to them.”

“They are strong,” Erzsébet argues sternly, “If anyone can break the cycle, it will be them.”

Before Kateryna can argue further, Erzsébet’s arms wind tight around her – her blood begins to dirty her trench coat. Her arms hover at her sides, even as Erzsébet buries her face in the crook of her neck.

“Guns don’t suit you, Katya,” she murmurs softly in her ear. “we both know this.”

She can feel Kateryna tremble, feel the press of her mouth to her shoulder as she begins to weep softly.

The empty pistol clatters to the ground.

 

When the rest of the syndicate agents enter the room, there is nothing in the ruined ballroom. Only the bodies, a shattered window, and a bloodied white trench coat remain.

 

* * *

 

 

Late summer touches the countryside in lightened greens and patches of sunshine peeking through the clouds. A gentle clucking of chickens punctuates the afternoon.

Kateryna hangs the sheets on the clothesline. Her apron is white – not pristine – still lingering with dirt and dust from the farmhouse chores.

The reparations had not been easy (save for the clandestine funds sent from dear brother Vanya after her alleged death) but the result had been beyond anything she could have dreamed of.

She takes a deep breath. She never imagined that air could taste so sweet – that _freedom_ could taste so sweet.

From behind, she feels strong arms wrap around her waist. Erzsébet plants a small kiss to her temple. She smells of freshly-tilled earth and apples.

“Erzsi,” Kateryna laughs as Erzsébet presses herself to her back, “are you back from the orchard already?”

“Mhm.” She plants another kiss to the top of her head. “It’s going to be another good harvest year, I think.”

Kateryna sighs and holds her arms where they wrap around her waist. The wind lifts the bedsheet, and Erzsébet – still clever as ever – obliged herself to steal yet another of a many thousand kisses from her beloved Katya.

There would be no more guns, no more crime or espionage. Only the quiet of their farm in the fields near Erzsébet’s childhood home.

It is Kateryna’s new home. Her new future. Hers, and Erzsi’s.


End file.
